


L-O-V-E (Was Made For Me And You)

by LadyOfPurple



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Dear god so much fluff, F/M, Fluff, Identity Reveal, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and like. two seconds of angst. BUT ITS FINE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 03:19:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13650357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOfPurple/pseuds/LadyOfPurple
Summary: (Late at night, after they’d said their goodbyes and he was alone, if he couldn’t sleep for thinking of her, he’d fill his screens with pictures of his Lady and simply sit there, surrounded by her smile.)(He was often up quite late.)





	L-O-V-E (Was Made For Me And You)

**Author's Note:**

> [Your soundtrack for the evening.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JErVP6xLZwg/)

**i.**   _(l is for the way you look at me)_

She was 15, and she knew Adrien was coming before he even walked in the door. It was as if something in the air _changed_ somehow when he was near.

(Perhaps her year-long crush was turning into a stalkerish obsession, as Alya teased her it might — or perhaps she knew his mannerisms so thoroughly that some deep, subconscious part of her simply _knew_ , and felt him through the fabric of time and space.)

(Either way, a warmth that started in her chest and flooded outward to the very tips of her toes began to fill her whenever he was around. It was very seldom wrong.)

Her eyes flicked up in anticipation several seconds before he actually appeared, and when he did, a soft sigh escaped her, like her very soul had been holding its breath for him. Alya kicked her lovingly in the ankle.

“Put your eyes back in,” she whispered, not unkindly. “Or at least buy him dinner first.” Marinette would have blushed if she’d been paying attention.

Adrien murmured greetings at their fellow classmates as he drifted past, oblivious to his own perfection, to her silent admiration, and when he slid into place in front he turned around in his seat. “Hey, Alya,” he said, and she waved in return. His gaze flitted to Marinette and summer green met ice blue. “Good morning, Marinette.” He smiled warmly.

Ice turned to a cloudless April sky with that smile.

**ii.** _(o is for the only one i see)_

He was 16, and he’d never so much as glanced at another girl since she came into his life.

Ladybug raced beside him, and then in front of him, so light on her feet she seemed to be flying, and there was nothing he could do but marvel at her grace.

She bounded lithely over gutters and chimneys, and there was never a time in his life when he felt more at home than in moments like these. He liked to think she felt the same — how could she not? She was a queen here, a goddess, and this was her kingdom. This was her domain. _Their_ domain.

(Late at night, after they’d said their goodbyes and he was alone, if he couldn’t sleep for thinking of her, he’d fill his screens with pictures of his Lady and simply sit there, surrounded by her smile.)

(He was often up quite late.)

And if she ever saw fit to crown him king, then, well, wouldn’t _that_ be wonderful?

She glanced back at him, eyes glinting in the moonlight, with flushed cheeks and hair flying. “Am I too fast for you, kitty?” she smirked at him.

A slow grin spread across his face. “You wish, Bug.”

She winked. “Prove it,” she challenged, and vaulted into the sky.

He followed.

 **iii.**    _(v is very very extraordinary)_

They were 17, and he couldn’t believe his stupid, perfect luck when he was caught out in the open with an Akuma and nowhere to change.

He looked around frantically for somewhere, _anywhere_ , a _dumpster_ would be better than being _cornered_ like an _idiot_ — and then suddenly, miraculously, _she_ was there, and she caught him in her arms and scooped him up like it was nothing and spirited him away in the nick of time.

(He hoped she didn’t notice he clung to her a little tighter than necessary.)

“Are you alright?” she asked when they could safely stop, her voice laced with concern.

(He was now.)

“I am now,” he said, and immediately bit his tongue. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ …

“O-oh,” she stuttered after a pause. Was she blushing? His heart picked up pace. She hadn’t let go of his waist yet, and he savored her touch.

A crash sounded and suddenly she was all business again, breaking the eye contact he hadn’t realized they were holding, and after a hasty goodbye she was off.

He stood there, mourning the loss of her warmth, watching her until she was out of sight before he ducked into an alley to change. His heartrate didn’t slow until he saw her again.

**iv.** _(e is even more than anyone that you adore)_

They were 18, and once again she crowed in triumph as her mecha crushed his for the 12th time in a row. He groaned, slumping back into his seat. “Not _fair_ ,” he whined, dropping his controller into his lap. “You don’t have to play in _gloves_.”

“It’s a poor workman who blames his tools,” she quoted primly at him, stifling a snicker at his pouting lower lip.

He stuck his tongue out at her. “Did I mention they have _claws_?”

(He’d shown up on her balcony one night, and somehow they ended up talking and laughing nearly until dawn. She’d thought it an odd, if pleasant, aberration, but not one that was likely to repeat itself — until he showed up again two nights later. And a week later, again. And again. He just kept coming back.)

“You’re just salty because you can’t admit _I’m_ the better player,” she laughed, tossing popcorn at his face, which he caught deftly on his tongue.

“Not as salty as this popcorn,” he said, gagging. “My _God_ , woman, have you heard of a little thing called _moderation_?”

(For some reason, she let him.)

She grinned at him. “If it’s so terrible, then why are you still eating it?”

“Hey, snacks are snacks,” he said thickly. Broken kernels dusted his lips.

She reached out, laughing, to brush them off — realizing half a moment too late that her _fingers_ were touching his _lips_ , and _gosh_ their faces were awfully close now. A heartbeat that felt like an eternity passed as their breath mingled, and blazing green met frozen blue.

“…Another round?” he asked suddenly, his voice cracking only slightly.

She snapped to attention. “S-sure,” she squeaked. They didn’t look at each other for the next three matches.

He left soon after.

**v.** _(two in love can make it)_

When they were 19, an Akuma attacked. And then another, and another. Queen Bee, Rena Rouge, Carapace — they did their best, but Chat Noir and his Lady were cornered, and there was only so much to be done before their kwamis had to recharge.

Ladybug did her best to evaluate the situation, but there was no easy way out of this one. Not this time. Her Lucky Charm had failed and Chat had used his second Cataclysm of the night. They had mere minutes to fix it. Or try again, and start all over.

She couldn’t decide quickly enough.

So Chat did it for her.

Before she knew what was happening, his hand was around her wrist and she was spinning, running, stumbling after him as he sprinted up and around, until suddenly there was a door and they were through and he slammed it shut behind them.

“Chat,” she panted, “Chat, we can’t stay here.”

“There’s no time,” he said.

“But Chat — my Miraculous…” As if in answer, it beeped loudly, desperately in her ears. “We need to regroup, recharge, plan…”

“Ladybug,” he said softly, meeting her eyes. “There’s no time.”

And suddenly she understood.

Her hands shot up to her earrings as her eyes widened and her weak legs, trembling from exertion, finally gave out beneath her and she fell to her knees. Her pulse was pounding still, but now it was nerves, no, _fear_ that made her heartbeats trip over themselves.

(no we can’t it’s too soon i’ve been hiding for so long it’s not safe what if i disappoint him i can’t do this there’s no time _there’s no time_ )

He knelt beside her, taking her hands in his, gently, carefully, _lovingly_. “I’m scared too, my Lady,” he whispered, and soft green met terrified blue. “Just hold my hand. It’ll be okay.”

(it’ll be okay)

Their fingers laced together and suddenly it _was_ okay, maybe.

Mingled pink and green light engulfed them both.

 **vi.**     _(take my heart and please don’t break it)_

When they emerged to the fight once more, a fight their friends had kept admirably in check in their absence, the Akumas were dispatched without much trouble.

(Perhaps it was the old adage “Third time’s the charm” at work, perhaps it was just luck or persistence or a combination, but Chat liked to think it was because they finally, _truly_ knew who they were fighting for.)

When it was over, he looked to her for their time-honored fist bump, but her arms were at her sides and when she met his eyes she looked away, quickly. “Good job,” he offered weakly. She only blinked slowly at him, wavering in response.

Rena Rouge glanced between them. “Are you… okay?” she asked Ladybug quietly, concernedly.

Ladybug jerked to attention. “I have to go,” she said, and her voice was full of emotion, although of _what_ emotion Chat couldn’t quite tell.

(His heart cracked slightly under the weight of it.)

“Ladybug…” he began, reaching for her, but her yo-yo was out and spinning before black could touch red.

Her eyes, wide and glistening, flicked over him. “I’ll see you later,” she said, and was gone.

Carapace and Queen Bee exchanged glances. “Okay, what _happened_ back there with you two?” Queen Bee asked, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

Chat didn’t know how to answer that question.

 **vii.**    _(and love was made for me and you)_

He found her sitting alone, on a non-descript rooftop in the middle of Paris. It was night now, and the stars were out in full force. She was staring at them when he took his place beside her.

“I didn’t mean to run away,” she said after a long silence. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” he said softly. “I know you didn’t want to do that.”

“You did what you thought was right.” A pause. “You _were_ right. We didn’t have the time to do anything else.”

They stared at the stars in silence for a while, the night air cool and heavy between them.

“Do you regret it?” he asked finally, painfully, and she turned to look at him for the first time, her soft pink lips parted in surprise.

“Of _course_ not,” she said, with such conviction he couldn’t help but laugh. “What — why are you _laughing_?” she demanded, brow now furrowing.

“It’s just, well, you could have fooled me.” She shrank slightly and that sobered him up quickly. “Bug — M-Marinette, I…” He stumbled over her name, fumbling for the words. “I just… I’m — I’m really glad that it’s you.”

Her eyes widened, just a fraction, and then her frame was engulfed in a glorious pink light and suddenly Ladybug was Marinette again, cheeks flushed, eyes bright and soft and the most perfect shade of blue. She was blushing when she said, “I’m really glad it’s you too.”

He released his own transformation and when the green light had faded he was Adrien again, in his overpriced jeans and designer t-shirt, sitting perilously close to the edge of a rooftop with a girl whose face he thought he’d never see, but which he’d seen for the better part of five years anyway.

Marinette looked away first, gazing back into the sky as he instead studied her profile breathlessly, like it was the first time he’d ever laid eyes on her, which in a way, it sort of was.

(Her fingers were so close to his; if he moved them just an inch he could touch her…)

(Who knew Ladybug had freckles — and not just freckles, but _constellations_ etched onto her skin?)

“I’ve loved you since I was 15, you know,” she said finally, and though her voice wavered as she said it her gaze was steady as electrified blue met startled green.

It was as if time slowed in that moment, the world going quiet as his heart hammered in his chest, butterflies swirling in his gut as his mouth ran dry. His hand inched toward her.

“That’s a shame,” he croaked, and for a split second her expression fractured only to be replaced by confusion as his fingers finally, _achingly_ laced with hers. He leaned in close as he swallowed.

“I’ve loved you since I was 14.”

His mouth muffled her surprised laugh and the kiss was like a promise, slow and sweet and full of hope, a culmination of every moment they’d ever shared, and anticipation of every moment after.

(He promised to never let her go.)

(She promised to never let him.)

**Author's Note:**

> [skateboards over and dunks this fic directly into the trash] what's up you meme-loving FUCKS
> 
> happy valentine's day
> 
>  
> 
> [writing tumblr.](http://ladywritesthings.tumblr.com/)  
> [main tumblr.](http://ladyofpurple.tumblr.com/)


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